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It was his own voice that woke him. Low moans of discomfort, the tossing and turning of a body made restless. It took Urianger all of a few hammering heartbeats past consciousness to recognize what plagued him. He whined louder, wordlessly voicing his frustration and begging his body for mercy.
He'd corked it, of course, once he remembered he was sharing the space with another.
Urianger couldn't clearly remember what he'd been dreaming about but it was more than a little pleasant, that much was certain. Ghosts of sensations, vaguest whispers of teasing words. One half of him wished to latch onto the memories of fading visions whilst the other wanted only to let them dissipate on every shivering breath. He rolled defiantly onto his other side, facing away from the sleeping Thancred next to him, and focused his attention instead on the patterning of the tent's cloth walls. He crossed his legs in the vain hope of relieving the pressure but it only made him crave it more. An ember blazed within the deepest pit of his abdomen and it hungered for a little kindling to stro— stoke it. But Urianger was a patient man, a man of strongest will who would endure any hardship, any inconvenience, any annoyance no matter how prolonged.
Yet a man Urianger remained all the same.
He changed positions, rolling onto his stomach. The pressure the cot pressed against his core was nigh-on dizzying. Anxious shifting, hips squirming, he bit down on his knuckle and tried his hardest to suppress a grunt. Spindly fingers clawed into the bedding. That electric rush seared into his thighs and shot through him. Failed attempts to keep himself still became longer, sparcer movements and… gods, he was rutting, he couldn't help it. Face turned to the side, he smushed his pillow against it to muffle the noise, the pleasure he so desperately wished to fend off. Yet he'd always been addicted to the chase. Too much and not enough, the flat surface couldn't quite reach where it needed to go, further barred by his nightgown. Just the thought of having a large stain in the front… he shivered once, twice, and with the curling of his toes pushed himself over.
Control, he bade. I must needs remain in control…! But every throb of his folds sought to break him, to do him in. One of his canines worried his bottom lip until it threatened to puff up and brighten. He clenched his jaw, tucked his knees in, drew his blanket tighter around him, and…
Thighs squeezed. Hips bucked. A strangled grunt and a sharp inhale. Flushed face and pupils blown wide. He couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't last a moment longer. Relief. By all gods, he needed relief.
Thancred had shifted in his cot but otherwise resumed his deep, rumbling snores. Perfect—he'd be careful not to rouse him. He sat up with a bit-back whine, carefully peeled back his blanket, and with feather-light movements clambered out of their tent to rise on shaky legs. The moon yet looked down on him from its high perch in the sky; dawn was not to break for some time yet. T'was just as well, he figured, for the sooner he could grant his body the peace it craved, the sooner he could return to sweetest slumber. He cared not about treading uncovered feet through the dust, sand, and dried grass. A breeze licked at his legs and bare arms as determination urged him forward. It passed through the fibers of his clothing to cool the desire that dampened his smallclothes; the air would have been chilling were he not consumed by flames that dared rival those in the Bowl of Embers. The lake they made camp beside was surrounded by large trees. T'was merely a matter of picking one suitable enough for his purposes, and he could choose from plenty. He settled on a sturdy trunk some few fulms away, thumped his back against it, and stuffed the hem of his nightgown into his mouth. An impatient hand plunged down past his smalls. Gods, he was wet. Each exhale carried a whine as he worked desperate fingers against that sensitive bundle of nerves, swollen and stiff and slick with lust that had spread from his earlier squirming. He fucked against his hand and begged, begged for relief to claim him, to wash over and embrace him. Heat and drool condensated against the fabric between his teeth and his taskless hand rose instead to fist it, to free his pleasured noises into the night. The pulsing quickened, the knot was tightening, the rolling of his hips became erratic and—
A broken sound through his teeth, followed by a hiss. Eyes squeezed shut, head pounded, underclothes flooded. No, no, this wasn't enough. He lifted up a leg, bare foot flush with the bark of the tree, and pushed his fingers down further. It burned, yes, but he was loose enough— frantic enough—for it to matter little. Huffs, gasps, moans of shocked pleasure. Brow knitted in utmost concentration. The angle was awkward. He had to choose between salvaging a cramping hand or immeasurable ecstacy. A compromise wasn't going to work. Thus, he pressed on, hoping to reach deeper, to find that fabled sweet spot, the spot he needed to be reached most. Long fingers be damned, he just… couldn't… get there. Oh, but he was unraveling anyway, sobbing his pretty sobs and squeezing release into his cupped hand where it dripped and pooled. His walls throbbed around his aching fingers and he loathed to pull them out but, by the Twelve, his wrist burned. He let out a sound of complete and utter dissatisfaction. The act of attempting to ease it only made him crave it more. His underclothes were already beyond salvaging and, thus, he wiped his hand on them once it was freed. Two fingers, with all the fight they had left within, pressed again to his tender clit and rubbed, hard and fast and urgent. There were no moans this time, only the whines of a creature starved. Wasn't enough, never would be enough, but his arm was crying out for deliverance. The pain was too great. He couldn't finish. But seven hells, the edging was worse. He knew he had a flair for the dramatic but the noise he let out could have easily been confused for injury. Yes, pain was a certainty but mindfulness was equally a virtue, lest Thancred come running. Addled body found the strength to push itself off of the tree he'd leaned against and limped towards the nearby water's edge, contaminated hand held out and away from him. He eyed the lake and debated whether or not its biting chill would sober him up from his lust-drunk state. He decided against it; in all his delirium, he still couldn't swim. Instead he crouched by the lakebed, unused hand teasing his clothed clit and entrance in long, slow rubs whilst the other made busy rinsing itself off in the clear water. He pressed against his pulsing heat and sighed. Another round. Or two. Or three. A shake of the head and the thought dissolved. He needed to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time he attempted to do so in soaked smalls and he knew more than well enough it wouldn't be the last. Drying his now-cleansed hand on his robe, he fended off the searing urge, the intolerable pain, and made for the tent. In all his resolve he made to sleep again.
He was wide awake.
Urianger had settled back into bed, his only solace of the night being that Thancred hadn't awoken. He chewed on his lip and the pain alone threatened to drive him wild. His foot shook under the blankets, his fingers drummed against his stomach, his heart hammered in his chest and by all accounts he felt delirious. Could he do it here? Flat on his back, under the blankets? Could he bunch his nightgown between his legs and hump like a dog? Or would his pillow serve that purpose better? He stared up at the draping ceiling and prayed to the stars for a solution knowing full well there wouldn't be one. But he needed something between his legs, he simply couldn't rest until he'd gotten it. Brow knitted, a forced breath through his nose, he wracked his brain for anything at all. And then it struck him. Thancred had drank beer that night. The bottle. Yes, it was risky, it was dangerous. But he'd rinse it. He'd be careful, he'd be safe, he just—he needed—
Urianger rose. Made to leave again and found he couldn't. A hand had gripped his wrist. Eyes flew wide. He looked at his wrist, at the hand holding it firmly in place, up the arm it was connected to and locked eyes with Thancred, who hadn't turned his body to face him but instead was craning his neck to peer over his shoulder.
"Leaving so soon?"
Urianger's mouth dried out (the rest of him notably didn't). A throb. He swallowed.
Thancred let go of him, knowing he wasn't like to run. He sat up with a grunt and a yawn. Truthfully, Urianger's look of horror was a bit jarring, even if his cheeks were noticeably flushed and not pale.
"Gods, man, you look like you've seen a ghost," he teased. "Don't worry; I may wear white, but 'tis only me, truly."
"H-How—" Gods, he hated (he loved) how unsteady his voice was. Urianger tried again, "How… long hast thou been…?"
"Since you left the first time."
He'd heard. He'd heard. Gods, there was no way in any of the seven hells that he hadn't. Urianger shivered, dug a tooth into his lip, and looked away. He was still squirming despite (because of) the shame, still chasing friction even though (because) he was being watched. "M-Mine—" his voice broke off in a shudder, "a-apologies for… f-for disturbing thy—th-thy slumber…"
Thancred chuckled. "Nonsense. You know by now I sleep lightly."
Urianger could give him naught more than a hum. His eyes glassed over. Swimming thoughts fixated on one point. That bottle, he needed that bottle. How was he meant to get to it? He could wait, he supposed. Wait for Thancred to grow placated and fall asleep again. Or give a convincing excuse enough to go grab it, use it for a round or two and return. Yes, two should be all he needed… he hoped. Three, at worst. Ramming against him, harder, faster. Deeper, deeper, deeper—
"Had I not spied your return to bed mere moments prior, I'd think you half-asleep," commented Thancred, "which leads me to believe your swaying has a different cause. Care to enlighten me?"
"Nay…" The word came out more as droned automation rather than a mindful and intentional response. Nor was it an appropriate answer to the question Thancred had asked. Urianger blinked hard and tried again. "N-Nay, I… simply thinkest myself a… touch more beleaguered than I initially surmised…"
"...Passing strange," Thancred countered, "because you were naught but jovial at dinner this evening. Come now, Urianger, did you truly think me like to believe that?"
Urianger's lips pursed. Would that he could wriggle his way out of this, but alas, Thancred's prying stare had him in a vice grip. Idle fantasy toyed with the shameful thrill, prodding and pawing at thoughts threatening to mold themselves into form. He tried to shoo them away but a well-timed sway sent a shiver shooting down his neck and into his core. Any effort to suppress it only strengthened its recoil. His frame quaked, head thrown back, and his next drawn breath became little more than a gasp cut short.
"Urianger? What is it, what's wrong?"
Thancred's hurried questions were answered only by a rapid shake of Urianger's head. Brow knitted, teeth gritted, he held his breath to fend off the repeated gasps but that only resulted in the eventual escape of a grunt and its permittance gave way to another, and then another. He could feel the fever rising, feel Thancred's piercing stare grazing against the risen hairs on the back of his exposed neck and, gods, it just wasn't helping . "Avert thine eyes," he barked, with barely the breath to do so in the first place.
"Why? What—"
"Obey, Thancred!"
Urianger knew not if Thancred yielded to his request, for he was far too preoccupied with his attempt to wrest back control from the carnal hunger that consumed him. He doubled and convulsed. His fingers clawed at the thin sheet of his bedroll, his bare toes curled tight against the soft flesh of his soles and the dirt and rocks that were yet trapped between the creases. Every time the worst of it appeared to have passed the throbbing pressure tightened itself anew. By the Twelve, how he ached! To give in to his body's persistent desire to squirm would be to invite remorseful indulgence, yet to keep himself as still as he was allowed him pointed focus on where the primal craving congregated most. There were no scenarios in which Urianger could break the surface of lust's deep and boundless ocean unscathed… or unhumiliated, at the very least. Although that ship has long since left port…
A fierce pulse betwixt his legs punched him hard enough to let slip a groan of slightest alarm. His breaths had grown ragged, quick and uneven. A singular plea was uttered in Fae and he redoubled his efforts to control them. In… and out. In… and out. The burden never truly lessened and his ministrations weren't without flaw, but even the mere perception of making an attempt to be decent he hoped would prove to Thancred that he wasn't seeking to unravel himself on purpose. The tide began to ebb and recede from the shores of his will and for but a few brief moments, there was a semblance of clarity. Every tide's pull was countered by the eventual push, he was well aware, but in this moment he'd regained his grip. A final, needy shiver, a sigh following after. All that remained in the silence that lingered between the walls of thick cloth was the galloping of Urianger's heartbeat.
"...Has your body set itself to rights?" asked Thancred after a time. His voice was low, a mutter, as if his voice dared against the noticing of a beast prowling past.
"...T'would be folly to presume thus," Urianger eventually mumbled. Again, he sighed. "P-Pardon mine indecency… While it wouldst be indeed false to claim I knoweth not what manner of affliction hath laid claim to my body, never had I intended to subject thee to mine own private struggle. Thus was my reason to leave and thus do I yet wish to do so."
"And go where?" But Urianger was notably silent, nor did his solemn expression give aught away. Thancred doubled his resolve and prodded again. "Urianger, go where? If you've a secret lover hidden in the shadows and awaiting your company, I'd very much like to meet them!"
The glare Urianger gave him could have set parchment ablaze were he to cast it the briefest glance. "Tease me not," he growled.
"Apologies. I couldn't resist," grinned Thancred. "Still, that doesn't answer my question. What do you intend to find out there that you've not sought out the first time you left the tent?"
Again, a long, weighted silence. Contemplative, anticipatory. A shiver, and Urianger dared speak.
"...Thou hast partaken in drink this night."
Thancred blinked. "...And? You mean to drown the urge? A fair warning, but that never tends to work, and you're free to ask me how I know."
"...I intend to make use of the bottle, aye."
Thancred cocked his head. Hazel hues strayed to the space between them, putting the outline of Urianger's hunched-over frame in his peripherals. The uttered phrases offered to him stitched themselves together in time to form their hidden meaning. His eyes widened. "You are not doing that."
"Art thou my guardian?" Urianger snapped. The flinch he earned was reward enough; Twelve strike him down for being so cruel. He huffed. "I thought not."
"...Gods, I'd never imagined you to be the cranky sort when you're all wound up," Thancred muttered. Though, given how gentle and confrontation-averse Urianger normally tended to be, would it not be fitting for something as confidential and close-kept as lust to be the sole crack in his shield? "Of course, you're free to do as you please, but I know well enough how desire may cause one to do something needlessly reckless and I would argue heavily against the, er… recreational use of glass. I'll not have you injured for a few fleeting moments of pleasure."
Free to do as he pleased, indeed, for Urianger's mind was already made up and very little beyond desire itself would sway him. Besides, the words fell far too easily from Thancred's lips, considering that he hasn't been the one suffering for nigh-on an hour with no end in sight. Would that he could shut him up. Another throb and he shuddered. He needed to act soon. "If thou dost not intend to proffer an alternative solution, then I wouldst bid thee cease thy needless words of warning."
"Seven hells, man, would it kill you to ask for help for once?!"
It was a sobering exclamation. Urianger shot his head up and connected his hazy eyes to Thancred's. The ire he'd been fostering was already beginning to fade.
"I know, 'tis rich coming from me," Thancred huffed, "but out of anyone you could have chosen to travel beside, you've chosen one with experience enough to ease your ills, to put it politely."
"I have had the misfortune of attesting to thine experience on more than one occasion," Urianger interrupted.
Thancred's eyes narrowed in playful warning. His gaze was quick to soften, however, given that Urianger had been on the butt end of his own taunts mere moments before. He would give him a pass. On he continued. "You're well within your rights to refuse, of course, but I certainly wouldn't mind giving you a, ah… first-hand account. At the very least, it should be like to put an end to the tossing and turning and moaning I've been made to endure every night this week."
A flash of disdain was quickly smothered by mortified alarm. "Thou hast— thou knew?"
"Of course I knew. As I've said, I sleep lightly."
Urianger hung his head; suddenly, looking Thancred in the eye was an insurmountable ask. "Pray, accept my sincerest apologies for giving thee cause to harbor such a grievance…"
"Nonsense," waved Thancred. "We all have our moments. I've certainly had mine, though I tend not to show it."
"...Not as well as thou thinkest." The words were veiled upon the passing of a breath.
"What was that?"
"Naught of consequence. Pray pay me no mind."
"...Hm." Thancred filed the muttered phrase away to ponder over later. "Well, regardless, since I doubt you'll be caught dead asking for anyone's aid, this is me offering it to you. If you have need of assistance—and your resumed squirming tells me you do—then I'm yours for the night."
Urianger chewed on his lip. He had started squirming again, hadn't he? It took great effort to stop; he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering at the resulting quakes of his spine. The tide creeped in again. "And should our relations suffer for this endeavor…?"
"I can treat this as business if it would make you more comfortable," Thancred offered. "Failing that, I would remind you that you're welcome to refuse. I'll do naught without your express permission. Such as it is with my lovers and bedfellows, so it shall be with you."
Urianger couldn't tell if he refused to cease his fidgeting because he wished his desire to take him over and speak for him instead of making the decision, himself. In that alone, he had his answer. "I… fearest my craving for a lay doth overpower my good sense. If… thou shalt indulge my lapse in judgment…?"
Thancred fought off a grin—in this, he needed Urianger to be direct for once. "Is… that meant to be a 'yes?'"
Urianger shuddered and then grunted; by virtue of his admission, there was a lot less pressure to hide how thoroughly pent up he was. Indeed, that pressure was now focused on where his thighs were repeatedly squeezing. He rocked back and forth as if it would kill him to keep still. "A-Aye," he got out. "Aye, yes, I—" A gasp interrupted him. Toes again curled, hands balled into fists. Finally did he dare to let out the whine that had been lodged in his throat, long and loud and pleading. Gods, he just couldn't bear this any longer! "M-Make haste, Thancred…"
Oh, Thancred couldn't help but laugh. Nothing barred him now that he'd gotten express permission. As an added plus, he could now cast aside the guilt laced within his own building arousal sparked alight by watching Urianger struggle to keep his composure; he could treat this as business if needs be, aye, but he was by no means immune to the suffering of another, and a deliciously tempting suffering it was, indeed. He got on his knees and made for the tent's entrance. "Strip," he guided. "Smalls stay on. I'll be just a moment."
It took quite some effort and finagling on Urianger's part to loosen where his nightgown had tucked itself under him. Once he'd managed that, it was pulled up and over his head and cast carelessly aside. His reddened skin bore fever and it was stark against the brisk chill of night. No matter, for he would simply seek to intensify the heat. Urianger reclined against the bedroll until he lay flat and trailed his fingers from his navel to the dampened hem of his smallclothes. A sole digit strayed further south to flick at the hardened nerves and his hips stuttered up to meet his hand. He quivered and clenched and his back arched off the thin mattress. Would that these selfsame efforts had been rewarded with relief earlier… Alas, naught would serve to satisfy save for his insides being sufficiently serviced, this he learned the hard way.
Thancred ducked back into the tent. He'd opened his mouth with the intention to say something but seeing Urianger openly pressing himself against his hand, he paused. Of course, he'd never caught him "in the act" before now and, had Urianger ever indulged himself as often as his clearly-practiced fingers suggested he did, it was certainly kept expertly hidden. Tonight would take them several steps beyond being caught in the midst of lust's throes. He couldn't help but wonder if aught would change between them, in that regard. A breath and Thancred recentered himself. "Ah, here, Urianger."
"Nnh…?" Urianger lazily lifted his head to stare at Thancred through silvery eyelashes. He found his soon-to-be bedfellow was holding out to him a stout, round vial of dark liquid. He had enough context to guess what it was meant to be and found himself touched; it was he, after all, that convinced Thancred to carry around preventatives during their early days as the Scions. After all this time, he yet took that advice to heart. Urianger sat up and took it from him.
"Drink the whole thing. Spare not a drop."
One could never be too safe. Urianger uncorked the small bottle and took it all in one pull. It met him sweet with a kiss of the medicinal bitter the sweetener sought to mask (but he's had worse), and then a strong, herbal punch at the end. All in all, not unpleasant. He handed the bottle back and it was carefully set somewhere out of the way. Only now, as Thancred set to loom overtop him, did he realize that he'd discarded his coat, gloves, and body armor, leaving him solely in his undershirt and trousers. Even his leg guards were notably absent, a shock given how welded to him they seemed to be.
"Ere we begin…" Thancred crooned, "Might you pick a safeword? Just in case?"
A safeword? Urianger blinked once, twice, and attempted to wrack his lust-addled brain for a suitable candidate. In truth, he'd never given it thought, solely because he didn't think they'd need one. And as long as he remained in this state of admitting truths, he's been made to wait oh, so long that he found himself wishing they could simply skip to the love-making and discard all thought. But, no, Thancred was being respectful of him, and thus did he owe it to Thancred to be respectful to him in turn, not just as a comrade doing him a great favor, but as someone deeply important to him. "Mmh… Benefic," he finally answered.
"Benefic." Thancred chuckled. It was… cute, in a way. "I'll remember that. If either one of us uses it at any point, we're to stop what we're doing. Are we clear?"
"A-Aye." It was hard for Urianger to think over the way he was shuddering. Something about Thancred's shift in tone felt so… well, not final, but it was clear there was to be an ending in this beginning. He spread his legs to welcome it.
Thancred's black shirt, tight by design, clung to him, and how it sought to conceal his body in turn put his chest and abs on tantalizing display. Seeing him shirtless was a common occurrence and Urianger was well acquainted with his bare top half, but here? Like this, so close? His hands hovered, uncertain, not for lack of surety in his desire to touch him, but for lack of method as to how and where. This was in direct antithesis to Thancred, who had a clear direction in mind; his lips sought to mouth the shell of his ear.
"'Tis all right, you can touch me," purred Thancred. His voice was husky, sultry against Urianger's skin. The needy tremble he'd gotten in response was reward enough, as were the hungry caresses from his shoulders to his chest. His words of encouragement might have spurred Urianger on, in fact, for those hands soon strayed far down enough to wedge themselves underneath his shirt. His fingers found purpose against the crests and valleys of Thancred's muscles, as if they'd mapped out well in advance where and how they wished to travel. As if his uncertainty was merely a ruse. His arms were pulling the shirt up to expose his chest and it was clear that Urianger wanted the shirt off. He grinned and pulled away from where his mouth had been busy. "You'll not need much by way of foreplay, I imagine," Thancred breathed, "but I pray you'll indulge me all the same."
Before Urianger could inquire as to what Thancred meant to do, a nipping at the tip of his ear made his next inhale choke off into an undignified squeak. A whimper was soon to follow. This noise of pleasure became one of a series of identical yet increasingly pleading sounds as Thancred's teeth pecked a trail from his lower earlobe to the underside of his jaw, then down his slender, exposed neck before stopping at his collarbone. These biting kisses, light and teasing, left no marks behind but their presence lingered in the gentle thrumming of agitated skin that reverberated across the expanse of nerves that mapped the area. A kiss, deeper and more purposeful, was pressed to his pulsepoint, but it was only in hindsight that Urianger realized it was meant to be a warning. Thancred leaned in to suckle it, to worry it, almost as if he meant to pull it from his neck. Thancred's shirt became naught more than a lifeline in that instance. Urianger's back arched and he growled.
"Thancred."
Thancred's resulting laugh was hot and breathy against Urianger's reddening flesh. He'd memorized where the Astrologian's gorget hid his skin. All of it now his territory, free to be claimed. Urianger's audible frustration vibrated against his tongue, against the kisses he peppered on his way to the other side of his neck. Teeth grazed, hums buzzed, he dipped lower into the crook of Urianger's neck, and—
"Agh—! Thancred!"
For but half a second Thancred's voice set to rise, to ask if Urianger remembered the safeword, but his worries were quickly allayed by the barking of a demand.
"Touch me," he gasped. His entire lower half squirmed and writhed against the cot. His fingers clawed at Thancred's shirt and his core had tightened with want most impure. "Thancred, touch me, I prithee." Oh, he'd gotten a laugh, but that wasn't an answer. "If thou doth commit none other actions upon mine aching body , then I implore thee. Touch me. Touch me."
Thancred shivered. His lower half shifted. A grin played at his lips. "'Tis well to know you've the ability to use your words for more than excessively lengthy lectures." Far be it from him, however, to ignore such a wholehearted and insistent request. His voice dipped low. "Has anyone ever told you how irresistible you sound when you're desperate?" Fingertips sought heat and south they slithered to where they would undoubtedly find it in abundance. It was a selfish pleasure (and, unbeknownst to him, a hallmark) of his to feel his lovers' smalls dampened with their slick afore he made to finally bed them. T'was a point of pride, in a way, and ritual in equal measure. Urianger would not be excluded from this number, but when he moved to do so he found up to the hem had been wetted by lust. He glanced between them and while the stain was indeed large, there were places in which it didn't show. "Seven hells, did you— did you dip these in the lake before you put them on?"
Urianger couldn't answer beyond a snarl of Thancred's name through grit teeth. His fingers were so… godsdamned… close. And yet, to his infinite frustration, Thancred instead opted to feel along his waistband, to feel how far the culmination of his urges had spread. His hips rose to press against his fingers and he was seconds away from yanking Thancred's hand down between his legs to squeeze it there. Dark words were uttered in Fae, words not even the pixies would have dared to speak aloud. His entire frame was shaking, his thighs were twitching. His fingers jerked and he'd almost worked up the courage to follow through on his impulse when finally, finally, finally, Thancred's fingers strayed back on course and a firm pressure pushed against his aching clit. Urianger threw an arm over his eyes and yowled, daring to compete with the coyotes in the woods beyond the safety of their tent. Up and down, up and down, slowly, slowly. Not enough to push him over. Hells, not even enough to truly satisfy, but the pleasure was maddening all the same.
Suddenly Thancred was exceedingly grateful that they chose to make camp so far from other people; they'd have been the hot topic at breakfast the next morning. He silently thanked the gods that they were spared this fate. As Urianger was free to howl, Thancred was equally so to enjoy and savor him. Gods, Urianger was so hard. But mayhap it should have been little wonder; after all, the poor man had been holding onto his lust for almost a full week. Of course he'd be frustrated. The word itself, in fact, felt an understatement. Thancred's original intent had been to merely tease. His sympathy had gotten the better of him, however, and he wouldn't deny a person in need. He pressed against the stiffened sensitivity so perfectly tucked away between Urianger's legs, seeking to release the cooled manifestation of prolonged desire from where it was trapped between the miniscule threads in the fabric. He played with the idea of different patterns of movement: firm presses, jerking strokes, circles large and small. The small circles were what won out, in the end, their vote cast by the frantic rolling and rutting of Urianger's hips. He'd lifted his arms to claw at Thancred's back and—oh, gods. His entire body shivered. Urianger smelled so… primal. There was a difference in musk between women and men; most women tended to be perfumed with scent-laden soaps or fancy fragrances, whilst most men often carried their natural scent without a second thought. Urianger was a mix of both, in truth. Subtle aromas of parchment and ink and rosemary mingled with sweat and clay and dried grass. Despite what one might think, it was no easier to indulge his whims with a man than it was a woman. But with Urianger… Urianger emboldened him. Granted him safety. When he felt the urge to get closer, he didn't push back against it like he usually did. Instead he gave in. He leaned in close to the side of Urianger's neck and breathed in deep, turning his head ever so slightly to face where Urianger's arm had raised. The dutiful ministrations of his hand faltered in the midst of the haze that claimed him, but only for a moment. A breath meant to recenter himself only offered in return a quake that shot from skull to tailbone. Thus did he turn his head away from Urianger's natural allure and instead made the man's pleasure his newfound prerogative. His teeth returned to the spot that had garnered the strongest reaction and he began to nip and suckle— around the area at first, until he committed to the center of his target—and savor the way Urianger's voice sang with want. Oh, of all the masters and mistresses he'd taken to bed, never had he heard a song so sweet. The rolling of Urianger's hips had become frantic jerks, his breaths had lost their rhythm and instead of a single-file line it became a scramble to simply escape by any means necessary. The voice that once sang had risen to a pitch Thancred didn't know Urianger could reach. He had half a mind to tell Urianger to save his voice and focus on his breathing when the lustrous melody that played on his ears screeched to a halt.
Oh. Oh. That was a sound he recognized. Thancred pulled away and found his suspicions confirmed; true to the sudden swelling against his fingers below, Urianger had gone still and stiff beneath him. His face scrunched up tight and rapidly reddened. This state of being didn't last long—as soon as it had started, it was over, and Urianger had fallen limp beneath him. His heavy-lidded eyes were distant and glassy yet clearly seeking focus. Both expressions, night and day, Thancred swore would be painted and immortalized within his memory. "Ah… was that… too much?" he asked.
"Nay, not enough," Urianger corrected with a wheeze. "More, I prithee."
Gods, his stamina was impressive. Thancred prayed he would be able to keep up once they'd truly gotten started. Though, as such, he resolved to go a little slower from here on; it wouldn't do to overwhelm either one of them. "Ah, might I kiss you?" Thancred then prompted. "Or would doing so err on the side of 'too far?'"
Mayhap it was merely due to his lust-drunk state, but Urianger found the lips above hungered just as much as the ones below. "I-I wouldst— huff —partake in all that thou haveth to give," he answered. "In short— hah… thou mayest."
It was slow and gentle at first, the way Thancred sought to press his open mouth to Urianger's lips. And Urianger allowed him to be slow and gentle—allowed himself to match his pace—for as long as he could keep the carnal craving at bay. In truth, this wouldn't prove to be for very long; every kiss teased and nurtured and beckoned the hunger until he was deepening their push and pull into each other. Hands carding through hair, tongues locked in dance. Breaths on breaths, out of sync yet perfectly in rhythm. Just when the space around them began to blur for lack of air Thancred pulled back to darken the color of one of the bruises slow to bloom. Of course, he was engaging with a man who could hold his breath for five minutes. Thancred was cool where Urianger was ablaze. But, oh, to be entranced in passion for that long, unbroken and unbothered? Mayhap he could request to be trained in much the same way, that he might one day have the opportunity to do so? But of course, that meant he was toying with the prospect of an "again," which was not a thought he had the brain capacity to entertain at present. In this instance, all that mattered was seeking to placate the throbbing that ached between his thighs.
"Kiss me," he demanded. And maketh my thoughts scatter as leaves on the wind. He locked one of his legs around Thancred's waist and allocated the whole of his weight towards forcing their hips to collide. "I have need of thee, I crave thee. Kiss me."
Where Thancred pushed back against Urianger's added pressure, he equally yielded to his pleas. Hungry kisses sealed Urianger's demands and instead Thancred swallowed his moans and begs whose words were now subtracted. He drank his desperation, smooth on the way down, and savored the heat it filled him with. Just a little more time until the preventative kicks in, he promised. But he felt one of Urianger's hands straying, slithering around him. Down, down, down until it reached his belt buckle. The workings of Urianger's fingers were frantic yet meticulous all the same and it wasn't long before his pants were loosened. A palm wormed underneath the fabric and cupped him through his smallclothes. Thancred pushed a groan into Urianger's mouth and his hips twitched. Urianger's teeth caught his lip in a parting embrace when he forced himself away.
"Oh, now that— that's hardly fair," he playfully chided. The sly chuckle Urianger answered him with went straight to the pulsing member now held against him.
A needy sigh and Urianger sought to reconnect their mouths. Their tongues swirled in fervor and passion, their lips became magnetic. Thancred's want throbbed in his hand and his fingers inchwormed along it, forward and back, in the limited space they were allowed to move. The heel of his palm rubbed against its head, earning him a throaty moan from Thancred and the briefest of moments to gulp down air before Thancred plunged in again. Heart hammered, blood roared, the blaze threatened to burn him alive and his hips lifted in a useless effort to seek any mitigation against the building tension. His hands now worked in tandem towards a goal, one emerging from Thancred's trousers and the other southbound towards his sides where his belt still hugged him.
"Th-Thancred, prithee…"
"Aye," assuaged Thancred, "I'm fair certain I've kept my damsel in distress long enough."
The nickname sent a shiver shooting up Urianger's spine. Damsel, huh? Oh, he could get used to that. He meant to volley back with some equally-creative wordplay of his own but quickly found his senses overwhelmed by that which they'd been crying out for; Thancred had pressed his hips to his and rolled, low and slow and sweet. All words failed and instead became ghosts lingering in the space between them, meaning unspoken yet never truly lost. Practiced, calloused fingerpads dug into his waist, anchoring him to Thancred's body, to the parts seeking still to deliciously tease him, yet in this teasing were but the most savory-sweet samples of what is yet to come.
…He'll not linger on that rather-apt jest that snuck to the forefront of his mind, Urianger decided.
Toes curled, entrance pressed into again and again and again, with not a mote of mercy willing to yield itself upon him. Clothes off, he begged, yet he had not the wherewithal to speak this fervent want aloud. Nor could he, with every other breath ensnared in a kiss. Yet Thancred's own breaths were shuddering and he, too, was falling victim to lust's enticing grip. A groan into his ear and Urianger's entire body became a magnet, arching up to meet his lover's in equal heat. Oh, Twelve forgive him, but he just couldn't wait any longer! The next growl of Thancred's name came in perfect harmony with his next rut forward.
But Thancred could only chuckle. A chuckle that petered off into a moan, sure, but devilishly knowing nonetheless. He'd lay in wait for his prey to be ripe for the killing, and now he made ready to strike. Though, in truth, he felt just as much prey to Urianger's wiles as Urianger likely did. Somehow that made this ever more exciting. A final kiss, precursor to an apology, and a purr on his breath.
"You'll forgive me for stopping."
The quizzical, heat-drunk stare Urianger offered him was quickly overwritten by a loud, whining sob as Thancred's hips pulled back and with it, every tiny morsel of pleasure he'd been afforded. To be fed hors d'oeuvres when he'd repeatedly made it plain he was starved… could he make it any clearer that he needed to be ravished? Worse still was his inability to offer up his wishes; high-pitched whines were all he could manage.
"I'll be quick," promised Thancred.
Thancred sat back on his knees and peeled his shirt—already ridden halfway up his body—up and over his head. Cast carelessly aside, he rose on his knees to shimmy both his undone pants and underclothes down to his thighs and, after a bit of unceremonious finagling, they, too, were discarded in the growing pile of prohibitive garments. Urianger's writhing was nullified by the firm grip of his hands upon his slim waist, pinning him to his bedroll, and again Thancred leaned in. A kiss to thank him for his patience, he reconnected his cock to Urianger's still- clothed folds and—
Nay, thou shalt not fall back into thy self-servicing rhythm. A hand since fallen to Urianger's side clenched into a fist. Frustration reached a pitch and burned bright and hot between his ribs. He and his yet-unfilled insides were sick to death of the stalling and he almost wished he'd simply taken the godsdamned bottle.
"Thou hast teased me overlong," he hissed.
Thancred smirked, a witty phrase locked and loaded and ready to be fired off, but it fizzled and died when a fistful of his hair was grabbed at and yanked. What came out instead was a startled (and rather undignified) yelp and when their eyes were forced to meet, Urianger's golden hues held an intensity he'd never seen.
"Fuck me, Thancred."
Thancred's eyes flew wide. His cheeks bloomed a wild, impossible red. The cursing in Fae (that he would never admit aloud that he actually understood) was one thing, but to hear a genuine, pointed swear shot from that prim and proper tongue? Thancred's twitching cock answered where his own words could not. A simple, silent nod and suddenly he was at Urianger's mercy. His hand, seemingly satisfied with the answer offered to it, freed him from its vice grip and Thancred ilmed lower, licking quick kisses down Urianger's stomach before finally hooking hungry digits underneath the band of Urianger's smalls.
"Oh, I am never letting you live this down," he muttered.
"If thou liveth long enough to recount the tale," Urianger shot back.
Seven hells. A shiver suppressed, Thancred recentered himself onto his present task. Only in this moment did Urianger's body yield to him. Urianger's smalls slid easily off his lifting legs. Down thighs, past calves, and delicately off of his dainty feet. His prize unveiled, though it didn't feel proffered or gifted as was the case in previous encounters so much as it was demanded to be partaken of. But differences be delightfully damned, Urianger was enticingly curtained by coarse, silvery hair, and he glistened and throbbed all the same. Thancred's own hunger rose at the sight of the feast set before him and the heat and scent dizzyingly freed from the confines of Urianger's smalls was gratefully sipped from. A base urge he found infamously irresistible. He licked his lips. At the risk of invoking any more of his ire…
"Might I sample you?"
Urianger scoffed. "Fill thyself not with mere tastes, lest thou seeketh to spoil thine appetite."
Honestly, that was fair. Another time, then.
… if they planned on doing this again, that is. Thoughts for later, not for now. Thancred's hands moved with haste. Where one sought to massage Urianger's thigh, the other jutted blindly out towards his discarded pants. Of course, the entire mound dragged itself along with the article of clothing in question, but it was of little consequence. Fingers repeatedly patted the pile, seeking something specific, but was ultimately unable to locate their quarry. Freeing a noise of mild annoyance, his eyes darted aside and he turned the dark textile between fingertips until his sought-after pocket had been summoned. His hand wormed within to pull free a small bottle of oil—"for emergencies," he'd justified, and in this case rightfully so, for Urianger's plight was most dire. Vial uncapped, gentle lavender complimented primal musk and mingled in the spaces between them. A few dabs into his hand were all that were needed and Thancred sought to slather himself in the thin lubricant. He was generous in applying it but could easily see that he needed not be overly so.
"M-Might you grab—" Thancred paused, gasping, head dipping low. Twelve forfend, he needed to remember to have restraint. He bit back a too-pleased groan and eased the firm pulls of his hand. "M-My—my pillow, if you don't mind?"
Urianger needed no further instruction. A long arm reached out, he dragged Thancred's pillow closer and stuffed it comfortably under his hips. He did the same with his own; he lifted his head and shoved it underneath his neck, firmly tugging at the case and shifting his shoulders to get it into place. Thancred was leaning over him. His (dry, thank the Twelve) hand slid from his thigh to his waist, up lean, slim sides to rub at the sensitive, hardened bud on his chest. Urianger gasped but dared not close his eyes, for he wanted to see the moment Thancred finally made good on his intentions. To see if he intended to stay true to his word. Heart hammered, blood roared. Sharp, expectant gasps for breath and twin fevers sparked alight. Ilm by ilm. Closer, closer, contact—
A whine. Urianger's back snapped into a perfect arch. Knitted brow, eyes screwed shut. Legs locked around Thancred's waist as if on instinct. Toes stretched and curled. His hands scrambled for purchase against the scarred skin of Thancred's back. A familiar burn stung him foreignly below. Rounded, thick, hot. Yet another ilm and—oh, finally…! Slowly, ever so slowly but never stopping, in this moment his body and Thancred's became one. Thancred consumed, Urianger filled, and their pulses beat against each other, together in perfect time. He buried his cheek into his pillow and pressed a fist to his forehead. Oh, gods, it was almost too much. It was an overwhelm he'd craved, that he'd needed as one needs air and aether to live. Whimpers rode on every exhale and they drowned out the moan Thancred bequeathed unto his ear, long and loud and oh, so wanting.
"P-Prithee, pri—prithee, prithee—" begged Urianger. He needed— he needed him to— "Th-Than— nnh— cred, move!"
Thancred could drag this out if he wanted to. Wrest back control and silence that demanding tone. But Twelve above, the desperation laced in every word clouded his judgment, his self control. He'd no choice but to give in and listen. A rapid nod. Surrender. "U-Uri— Urianger—!"
It was almost everything he'd needed, to be filled so flawlessly with nary a free pocket of unoccupied space between them. His walls squeezed and clenched and ached as Thancred slowly, slowly, slooowly wound his hips back. Urianger knew not what he'd said then—if he'd spoken aloud any coherent words at all. But his scream of purest ecstasy crescendoed in perfect harmony with Thancred's lower keen of familiar desire driven by an abrupt jerk forward. Urianger's vision swam. Their surrounds spun. Every last ilm sizzled and crackled with hunger. Thancred's movements repeated. Once more, then twice. Getting him used to the sensations, Urianger was certain. But while that was awfully considerate of him, gods, he needed more.
"Th-Thy ministrations could— c-could do with some ma— aah— nner of haste," he struggled out.
A satisfied hum. A sigh. Thancred would laugh if the pleasure hadn't sucked the breath from him. "By the Twelve, you make for a demanding lover," he joked. But it was just as well, for he felt like he would die if he kept up this slow pace. His next thrust was sharp yet shallow, more a snap than the slow ease he'd somewhat settled into. His eyes crossed and his head dipped forward. From the deepest depths of his stomach a moan tumbled forth into the open air, electric and alive where it was once, long ago, stagnant with sleep. Urianger was entirely soaked and looser still, much more than he'd honestly expected. To move was a nigh effortless endeavor with such a lack of resistance. But in all his experience he knew better than to jump straightaway into rhythm.
Or, at least, he thought he did. For as he continued to work his way up to his preferred pace his ears detected the change in Urianger's once-satiated sounds. Instead, they were sobs, sobs mingling with whimpers at that same perfect pitch he'd unfathomably managed to hit before. The firm slamming of the heel of a palm against his shoulderblade connected Thancred's thoughts to reality.
"Faster, fa— aah— ster, Thancred…"
Thancred wordlessly obliged. His thrusts picked up some small measure of speed. They were yet restrained in nature, however, as he sought to allow Urianger to get used to the friction. The growl he'd caught hidden amidst a breathy grunt should have been a warning, in all truth, yet he still found himself caught completely off guard when Urianger's strong legs and firm hands all worked in tandem to force him forward on his next push in. The shocked moan he'd gotten out was smothered by Urianger's clamoring.
"Cease thy mitigations, Thancred," he cried. "Thou hast ne'er been one to do things by halves. Darest not start now!" He lifted his head, in a not-so-wordless plea connecting his fiery gaze to Thancred's amber hues sparkling with confusion. "Bring thine all to bear, give all of thee unto me. Tear my body asunder, I bid thee, shouldst the prospect provest thine only criterion required to apply some Twelve-be-damned force!"
Thancred blinked, almost struggling to absorb his rather wordy phrasing, and smirked. "Well, I try not to opt for 'hard and fast' during someone's first time beneath me," he huffed. Nevertheless, he settled, shifting his hips, adjusting his legs, bearing more of his weight onto his arms, "but I've no qualms about ripping you in twain if that's what you want."
"I need this, Thancred," Urianger snarled through grit teeth. "'Tis far beyond the realm of mere 'want.' I wilt not be satiated by less."
"Fine." This time, Thancred laughed. "You know the safeword."
An impatient huff. Urianger's hips shifted and he pulled a moan from both of them. "I should like to think thou shalt not hear any further complaints from me, should thy performance proveth adequate." He leaned in again to connect their mouths, their tongues. Teeth again sought to worry Thancred's bottom lip when they broke apart. He licked where the skin pierced. The metallic taste was dangerously addicting.
"Mmph— I can do you one better than adequate."
"...Hm. 'Tis passing strange, for I do not recall such a judgment thine to make," he corrected.
This man is going to be the death of me, realized Thancred. 'Tis a pity, for I might well thank him for it. He couldn't quite claim he'd ever bedded a lover so feisty, but he wouldn't deny it a welcome change. His thoughts were soon interrupted, however, by a starburst of pain on the underside of his jaw.
Oh, the shivering gasp Urianger had earned was most certainly a point of pride. A dark chuckle, and he moved to nip at Thancred's ear. "Consider thyself incentivized," he growled, low and rumbling as distant thunder.
"Oh, you naughty dog— Fine. Fine." Thancred pulled his hips back. "But I warned you."
What would have been moans instead became shouts on impact, smothering the slapping of skin against skin. Thancred would admit that he yet held some small measure of restraint within his first few thrusts, waiting for a "stop" or an "ow" or a quickly-fired "Benefic," yet what few words remained in Urianger's lexicon were comprised only of the repeated baying of "yes!" and "there!" His pleas were not merely played-up lust. Thus did Thancred give himself up to the honest reality where want and need intertwined. All of his force, all of his desire, everything he had he wished to give. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd been given permission to let go, to break loose into a no-holds-barred chase. Urianger was one of the last on the star he'd ever suspected would be amongst that small number. That festering blaze, the slick Urianger coated him with, the rapid, long pulls of his shaft against his inner walls…
"Uhnn, gods it's good," he groaned. "S-So… godsdamned… nnhh—!"
Urianger regretted ever even considering taking the beer bottle over what he had now, over Thancred. The head of his cock battered against recesses his fingers only wished they'd been able to reach, the parts of him that had been aching for days for attention. Oh, it hurt. It hurt so wonderfully, in exactly the way he'd needed it to. His nails dug in, a squirm and a buck, a warning clench and he could feel that fever swelling down below. Pleasure shot through him with every press, the pressure rose and built higher, higher… Receding tide pulling back from shore before the waves rushed in to crash all around him. The heat closed in and in its tightness could he feel every last ilm of Thancred as he moved. His back arched far off the cot and he howled Thancred's name to the heavenly gates above.
"Th-Than— nnnhh—!" struggled Urianger. A forceful breath sucked in, clambering for control over his voice. "Darest not— I-I beg— please!" The waves crashed again, his body squeezed tighter and his toes curled with enough force to make his feet quake. "Prithee, prithee, don't stop!"
The rest of Urianger's frenzied pleas had fallen away into moans, each thrust sending him ever skyward. Thancred, to his credit, actually had the good sense to obey. He tangled himself in him, the arm bearing his weight and balance hooking under Urianger's as he sought to lean in closer. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Urianger's neck, now flushed and splotchy with bruises that his teeth sought to darken, and every breath in sent a rush up his spine. Urianger, in turn, knotted himself around him. His fingertips traced the gooseflesh on Thancred's arms, the slick of his beading sweat, the unevenness of the scarred skin upon his back. They reached back up to find the scruff of his neck eventually and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and latched on, effectively keeping Thancred's head in place. What Urianger lost in contact with Thancred's teeth stinging his skin, he gained in a moan so sweet in his ear. He answered with one of his own and Thancred's hips noticeably stuttered. It became a mirrored conversation, then: hips rocking into each other in time, hands seeking to soak in the essence of the other, one heaving breath eliciting another whimper.
But Thancred learned Urianger's tells easily. He had a way of hastening his breaths every time he got close that threatened to do him in. He walked a fine line between fulfilling Urianger's request and the unfettered, unchecked desire that would give them both what they wanted, but in one of them far too soon: that powerful, star-shattering release. He caught Urianger trying to whimper out his name and—oh, Twelve save him. A gasp, a curse as he felt Urianger tighten around him again. His core seared and flared, an internal sun prime to explode. He groaned, held steadfast to his will, his conviction, and forced himself forward again, again, again until the twitches were no longer a suggestion but an imminent warning. His eyes met the back of his skull. He grunted, bucked, and—
"Unnhh, B-Benefic…" droned Thancred. He cut himself loose from the tangled embrace of Urianger's limbs to squeeze the base of his cock hard. The urge to fuck his fist, to paint Urianger's chest and stomach, clit and cunt was absolutely tantalizing. It took him more than a few moments to reign in his body's desperate, aching need to burst. "O-On your—" he panted, shuddered. "On your side, Urianger."
Urianger's core had yet to unwind itself and it seemed to only clamp tighter once the catalyst had been taken away. Breathy, repeated grunts, mind-rending pleasure, and he collapsed with a huff. A throb down below and another rush of heat through him. The hunger gnawed. He held onto his complaints, held onto those feelings of almost, held onto the way his insides went from deliciously full to starvingly empty. If this is how Thancred intended to best please, then he would follow suit. Thancred's dampened pillow cast aside, Urianger rolled over and tugged his own into his arm, cradling it against his head and the crook of his neck while a leg was lifted and bent out of the way. As Thancred lined himself up again, it found a resting place on his shoulder.
"D-Darest— hah… not treat me delicate," he half-begged.
"With you acting like this?" Thancred's laugh whispered on a breath. "I wouldn't dare dream of it."
This angle was different, new, but furthest from undesirable. Urianger welcomed the burn in again and with a groan embraced all his heat and greed. He shifted his hips forward once, twice in an effort to meet it and voiced his impatience with a whimper.
"Thancreeeed…!"
Thancred caught the warning woven in between his bedfellow's drawn-out whine. "Not to worry, sweetest," he teased, "I'll not stay my hand."
Urianger didn't have the time to voice his (in some ways, mock) skepticism, for Thancred spent it all up proving his doubts wrong. His gasps were desperate, shallow, pleading. Wanton and wanting. Yet somehow the pleasure below accentuated the ache he yet felt and it didn't take him long to discern why. His fingers twitched.
"Thancred—" he barked, "Nnnh, Thancred, thy— ahh!"
"Way ahead of you," smirked Thancred. His fingers pressed firmly, tantalizingly, to Urianger's neglected bud of nerves. "You need not utter a single word more. Beyond my name, of course."
"Th-Thou— g-giveth thyself… too much cre— h-haa!"
All the words had been sucked from Urianger's lungs, replaced instead with gasps. He smushed his cheek into his pillow, gripped it with such intensity that his knuckles bleached themselves white against the exerted tint of his skin. Rapid breaths caught against the fabric and transferred unto it but a taste of the heat that boiled within. Each forceful jerk forward combined with the rapid swirls of Thancred's fingers, both sensations magnetic. His hips snapped up against them and he swore he saw more stars than he could ever divine himself. His mind became a jumbled mass of contradictions. Too much, too much, too much, not enough, moremoremoremore— The pillow couldn't serve its purpose well enough. He needed an anchor, something to ground him. He was flying away, too high, too far, too fast. Oh, he wasn't like to last much longer. A thrust angled just right, and—
"Thancred!" Urianger's hand flew to his own hair and tugged. "Thancred, Thancred!!"
Thancred wasn't a stranger to having his name shouted to the heavenly gates, but somehow it sounded all the more savory when Urianger was the one doing it. But Twelve take him, if he keeps—
"Thancred!!!"
"Oh, fuck—" Get a grip, get a grip, just a little longer— "U-Urianger, I'm close," he warned, against his better judgment. But he was no fool; whether or not he spoke his release into existence it would crash into him regardless, and he was well past the point of no return. It was his turn to whine.
Urianger couldn't answer his warning; his own voice had devolved into little more than jumbled up phrases. Curses and pleas and thoughts half-formed in a slurry of Eorzean and Fae. The hand scrambling for purchase in his hair slammed down in a fist against the cot beneath them once, then twice, then over and over. Pressure and heat rising, rising, rising—
"Sev—Seven hells—haah…!" Try as Thancred might, he couldn't stop to savor these last few moments (and he was quite sure Urianger would kill him if he did), as much as he wished to ensure Urianger came first. His toes were curling, his thrusts were stuttering. "Where—? Urianger, where—!"
"Thou darest not prove thine efforts all for naught," Urianger hurriedly demanded, summoning the very last of his coherence. He threw his head back and gave himself to pleasure. "Insi— ah! Th-Thancred— bid thee— inside—!"
It was just as well, for Thancred's orgasm hit him before Urianger could finish getting the words out. A final slam forward and Thancred doubled with a long, wavering, satisfied groan. Balls pulled taut, every ilm clenched, he grunted and hissed as the culmination of all his lust and desire coated Urianger's walls and filled his insides. It was mere seconds before Urianger's body responded in kind.
Oh, it was a release Urianger could have only dreamed of. In his mind he envisioned the explosion of a thousand stars, white-hot and blinding. Frozen in the flow of time. His voice had long since left him, remaining trapped in the uppermost part of his throat where ecstacy had choked him off. And Thancred had gone still, leaving pieces of him behind where neither of them could reach. Urianger could feel his own lust escaping, coating him, running down his thigh to seep into the bedroll. It wasn't anything less than perfection to fit so snugly around someone else, a satisfaction he had never known until now. A need that had gone unfulfilled until this very instant. For once, he felt complete.
There was a shiver as Thancred pulled his fingers away from where they'd been pressed. His body microdosed the friction and found it had grown addicted. Even after every limb turned to jelly, the embers yet flickered. But this was normal. He would ignore it. He always did.
A restrained groan broke him from his ruminations. A squirm, then a half-rut forward. Urianger looked up as his body jolted and found Thancred's expression to be apologetically strained. It was only then that he pieced together something most peculiar.
"Thou… hast not returned to flaccidity?"
Thancred playfully grimaced. "Well, I might if you phrase it like that," he snorted. A throb and his expression dissolved again into lechery. The knot remained. But I won't be selfish. Not this time. I must needs leave him be. He drew his hips back, biting down hard on his lip to stifle his pleasure, yet his stuttering chest betrayed him anyway.
Urianger moaned. He waited. His brow furrowed. No, Thancred wasn't stopping. "Than— nnh… Thancred…?"
"Mmhh…?"
Gods, Urianger swore he could get lost in the delirium in Thancred's eyes. He wanted to delve so far deep that he couldn't find his way back. He wanted to drown. Thancred pulling out of him afforded him opportunity to readjust. His leg swung off Thancred's shoulder, the pillow stuffed back underneath his hips, and he spread his thighs apart again. Two fingers snaked south to spread his folds apart, still sticky with arousal and spend. He pressed, rubbed forward and back against the hair there, and sighed. Of course, the sight ignited Thancred's hunger, but only insofar as to take himself in his hand and rub. Clearly, he wasn't being obvious enough. Fingertips receded, closing together, and rubbed slow circles against his clit. The next soft moan of Thancred's name wasn't solely for theatrics, he'll admit.
"If thou— oh… doth wish to seek— nnh! S-Seek a final release, thou shalt find— f-find me… open… to such a prospect."
Thancred had not the energy to pounce upon him and ravage his body as a wolf would its prey. Instead, he took on the slow crawl of a coeurl and settled comfortably against his temporary lover. He twitched as he lined himself up again. "I fear you've learned my weakness," he purred. "I'll not have it said that I left a needy dame wanting."
There it was again. Of course, Urianger knew it was all in jest, but… "Then 'til the sun riseth, this dame shall yield to thee." Oh, a high like no other. A warmth sparkling in his breast. He wrapped his arms around Thancred's with a loopy grin and sealed their passion with a kiss.
It was much slower this time around. Gentle kisses, soft caresses, rocks of the hips even and measured. One pair of hands interlocked by Urianger's head while his other busied itself between his legs. No screams, only low moans and breathy sighs. Their bodies themselves filled up most of the silence between them. It was just as well, of course, for in this stagnation the heavy use of Urianger's voice was starting to catch up with him. He could barely vocalize when he was starting to get close. It was fine, however, for a night spent in his arms clued Thancred in to many of his little tells. He knew just when and how to get him there, and get him there he did, with his own self tumbling right behind him. In that final high, they both found truest serenity. Bliss at last.
Every ilm of their skin stung with residual heat distilled from the lust that had laced it. Beads of sweat replaced it. A final kiss before they returned to what they once were, tender and longing and saccharine in their parting. Thancred pulled out for a final time and fell beside him—onto his own cot for once. He felt in dire need of a good scrubbing, but it could wait until… whichever dreadfully late hour they woke up during tomorrow. His thoughts (and eyes, admittedly) turned back to Urianger and the realization struck him that his bedding may prove a bit too soiled to sleep comfortably on—not that he doubted Urianger would do so anyway. He shifted a bit further away and patted the thin space next to him.
It took Urianger some few beats of the heart to realize just what it was Thancred was motioning for him to do, tired as he was, but once the dots connected he gratefully scooted closer, closing the gap between their cots to lay beside him and bringing his pillow over for them both to share. At first he pressed himself rather avidly to Thancred's side in an attempt to avoid wherever his own cot may be wet, but eventually he gave himself leeway enough to lay on his back in Thancred's arms. Their slowing pants were the only sound heard from either of them for quite some time. He tried to lock the night's events away somewhere safe in his mind for fear that his lust would spark alight anew, but something Thancred had said earlier yet played at his conscience.
"...Thancred?"
"Nnh…?"
"Thou art—" A cough; gods, his voice was rough, "art not truly…?" The wording was off. He tried again. "Dost thou truly find thyself bothered by my behavior of late?"
"Mmh?" Thancred's heavy eyes struggled open. Amidst Urianger's satisfied fatigue was genuine concern. He huffed and flashed him a lazy grin. "What I said was true, but I said it to tease." A yawn. "You've been pent up all week. I'm quite surprised you lasted this long. I dare not know how you've been functioning otherwise—gods know I couldn't."
"'Tis… par for the course, I fear," Urianger sheepishly answered. His eyes slipped closed and his head lolled to the side, falling heavy against his pillow. A slow breath pushed itself through his nose and ended on a hum. "I am… due next week."
"Ahhh, that explains it."
A long silence as sex and sweat and sleep permeated around them. Thancred, barely conscious, believed Urianger to have drifted off when he heard his hoarse voice rise again.
"I suppose thou couldst consider this night equivalent payment for every morn I have awoken to find thee pleasuring thyself."
"Oh, hush," Thancred countered with a firm nudge to Urianger's shoulder.
The last thing either of them heard was the mingled sound of their quiet laughter.